The Bunting Fly

"I don't think this is a good idea, Captain," old Sergi said, his toothless mouth twisted in a grimace. He viewed his surroundings in disfavor. 
"You promised," Abbott reminded his friend in a firm voice. 
"Aye, I did, but... Well, look around you! Tis not a good place for you!" 
"I'm tired of the normal places I go to," Abbott explained. He looked down at the shorter man and wondered, for the millionth time, just why they were such good friends. It didn't make sense for Abbott had a clean fetish and Sergi didn't. Sergi fit in with the current surrounding area of dirty inns and shadows filled with people who'd slit throats and steal shoes with worn out soles. Abbott, on the other hand was used to clean drawing rooms and twenty five servants all waiting in line to wipe his arse after a good bowel movement. 
No, it didn't make sense in any way, sense or form. Still, their friendship had survived fifteen years of sea and work and strumpets with heels so rounded, they slid off the bed. 

Sergi plucked at the other man's clean sleeve with his dirt encrusted fingers. "You don't understand, Cap, this place...." 
"Looks interesting," Abbott said thoughtfully, giving the outside the once over. "Let's go in." 
Sergi held him back, "But..." 
"What's wrong?" 
"This here is..." 
A young woman, her blonde hair caught back in thick curls, and accompanied by a tall, skinny, auburn haired man, pushed past. "Please excuse me," she said in a low, whispery voice. 
"Indeed," Abbott said gallantly, and stepped aside. When they had vanished inside, he turned to Sergi and said firmly, "They looked presentable enough. Her dress was a smidgen too tight, and she wore a mite too much artificial colouring, but then, many women used rouge these days." 
"Oh, aye, they did look right enough, but..." He sighed, giving up. "Well, you did say you wanted to try something new." 
"I did." 
"Don't say afterwards, I didn't try and stop you." 
"I won't." And with this Abbott went in, with Sergi close behind. 
The place smelled of perfume, old food, stale alcohol. It was noisy, dimly lit. Abbott looked around. Several eyes were on him, giving him the once over, contemplating who he was and why he was there. And then, Abbott saw...her...and his groin reacted immediately. 
She was tall, slim, with chestnut curls worn in long ringlets. She had dark green eyes. The dress she wore was an off the shoulder, white garment, the kind a girl wore before her debut. It was simple and pure. Even her roving eyes, those breathtaking, groin aching, green eyes, those eyes that searched the room, looking at each and every man, seemed innocent enough. 
"Gad, what a beauty!" Abbott murmured. He caught her eyes. She covered her mouth with her fan, a lovely thing of white lace and ecru silk, peering at him over the flawless edge. She was not interested in Abbott until she noticed his gaze sweeping over, and lingering on, her small, perfectly formed bosom. Her eyes swept over him and then they lingered on his bunting fly. Desire lit her exquisite, green eyes...desire sent a burning sensation through his private sector. 
His shaft grew harder and he found it difficult to swallow. He desired her. No one before in his whole life, not even that French tart in Paris, (the one who wore strawberry jam to bed), had set him off like this. He had to have her! 

Sergi followed his gaze. "I don't think you'll be wanting to get involved with that one, Captain." 
"Hum? Why?" His voice was dreamy. His blood sang in his ears. 
"She...er...she's not what you think." 
"She's not...?" He looked down at the shorter man. "What do you mean?" 
"Looks are deceiving, Cap. Take my word for it. I wouldn't get involved with her if I were you." And he muttered, "Especially if I were you." 
"Oh? Is she a prostitute?" 
"Could be, but that's not what I..." 
"I don't care." he turned back to gawk at her once more. Her eyes were still fastened on him as well. "She's the loveliest creation I've ever laid eyes on." 
"Creation is a good [word] for her, all right," the old man agreed dryly. 
"I have to meet her. Do you think she's with one of those men?" 
"She's probably with all of them," Sergi muttered sourly. Beneath his breath, he added, "Probably had all of 'em too." He glared at the tall, handsome, strongly built man next to him. "I don't think... Look, let's go elsewhere. I brought you here on a lark, but I don't think..." 
Abbott moved forward, stopping only when he'd reached her table. "Excuse me. I couldn't help but admire your magnificent beauty from the doorway." She smiled at him from behind the fan. "I'm Abbott, Captain William Abbott, at your service and your servant." 
"I am called Doll," she told him, sweetly, in a husky voice. It was barely above a whisper. "Would you like to sit down?" 
Eagerly, Abbott replied, "Yes!" He looked round at the table but saw no empty chairs. 
Doll shoved the man to her right out of his seat. "You should return to the ship now, John." He scowled at her but left. "Your seat, sir?" Abbott sat. "You were saying?" 
Abbott clasped her firm, calloused hand, kissed the fingertips. "I find your beauty enchanting. It leaves me breathless, and, if I may be so bold, burning fiercely within." 
She smacked his face delicately with her fan but quickly covered her face with the delicate object. "Oh, la, sir, you'll make me blush you will." 
"I have travelled to many places but I have never seen anyone more ravishing that you." The truth of his statement sang though loud and clear in his tone. 
A man at the table snickered. Doll threw him a look of warning. The man, a heavy, blond man dressed in seaman's garb, continued to smirk. 
"You have not been here before," she murmured, returning her attention to Abbott 
"No. I frequent..." 
"He a rich toff, Doll. He don't know what you are, he don't," the man who had laughed announced scornfully. "He'd not be wanting you if he knew. Can't you see that? He ain't one of us, he ain't!" He met her irate look with one of disgust. "Well, he ain't. He sniffs fancy perfume, not arse puffs. God, he even pokes a handkerchief up his sleeve." 

"Could we go elsewhere?" Abbott hastened to add, "I don't wish to place your reputation in jeopardy, but I long to have you all to myself." His grip tightened. "There's so much I yearn to tell you!" "I don't know..." She clearly wanted to go with him. 
"Don't be shy," Abbott begged. He took the fan from her. She quickly lowered her face. He lifted her head. She had rough skin, but then, so did his Aunt Elizabeth. That it felt almost like hours-long bristles did not faze him a bit. His Aunt Elizabeth, God rest her restless soul, had had hormone trouble but men had still flocked about her. "Don't be shy," he repeated in a caressing tone. 
The man on her left again snickered. "Shy ain't the word for it, you bloody rich toff!" She kicked him beneath the table and he yelped. 
"Ignore him." Her glance made his mouth water. 
"Are you hungry?" he asked in a voice that barely concealed his passion. 
"Oh, yes." 

He knew she wasn't speaking about food. Still, he wanted to be alone with her, without those sneering, mocking eyes of the man who sat next to her. "I saw an inn down the street. It looked fairly presentable. Would you care to accompany me there?" 
"Oh, yes." She batted her lashes and sighed, a soft breathless sound that sent blood pounding in every single man near her. 
Abbott rose swiftly. Gallantly, he offered her his hand. They left the building arm and arm. Over fish and chips later, they exchanged looks that would have made a priest cringe. Abbott's shaft grew harder and harder as she ran her naked foot up and down his leg beneath the table. When it reached his groin area, he groaned. 
"I know a private place." She ran her foot back up and down his leg again. "Your hunger can be appeased. I...cook...quite well." 
Abbott gulped...twice. "I..." He cleared his throat again. "I would like that." 

She stood up in regal majesty. Her chestnut ringlets shivered deliciously. "Then come." She held her hand out to him. He stood and accepted her hand. 
They went to the docks, found a private place beneath one long, dark section. She pushed him back, bent over to kiss him. He tried to pull her close but she was a lot stronger than she looked and held him off. Doll remained kneeling at his side. Her ringlets hung over her shoulder, and tickled his face when her lips touched his. Once more, he tried to pull her to him so she could lie on top, but once more, she won the battle to remain where she was. In a moment, Abbott forgot to care as her tongue did phenomenal things to his emotions. Before he knew it, her mouth and hands were on his shaft, his huge, throbbing, aching, burning shaft, his swollen, painful, blistering rod of lust and semen. With a loud whimper, he came, spurting into the air, over her hands. 
"Oh, God," he murmured when he could speak. 
"You mean, oh, Doll, don't you?" she teased. 
"I do!" He sat up, tried to pull her into his arms. 
"No!" She rose quickly, laughing lightly. "I must get back." 
"No, wait!" He shot up, refastening his pants as he did. 
"I must go." She took two steps away." 
"But we haven't...I mean...what about you?" He reached her, held her arm. 
"I have no need of *that*!" She tried to pull free but he held on. 
"Let me send you through the zenith of climax! Let me taste your cream!" 
"No. I have to go." She tugged again. He held on stubbornly. Her tone became rigid. "I have to go. Release me at once!" 
"I want to give you what you gave me," he argued. 
"Merde!" Suddenly, without warning, he was flipped through the air. He landed on his backside with a thump and a woof of air. When he caught his breath and sat up, she was disappearing around a huge pile of rocks. Without thinking, he shot up and ran swiftly after her. He followed he up on the docks, down the pier. He lost sight of her once but continued looking for her. He finally caught sight of her again as she climbed out of a dinghy and up a rope ladder into a ship. 
"Aye, she a looker, right enough," a male's voice said from behind him 
Abbott whirled, took one look at the man and saw a short, overweight, bald man. Abbott said, "Yes, she is," he finally answered the man. 
"She can weather any storm," the bald man said in satisfaction. 
"Weather...?" 
"Aye, that she can. I've sailed on the FAERIE QUEEN these ten years. 
"Then you know the woman?" 
"The woman? What...? Oh, you mean Doll..." 
"Yes! Do you know where she lives?" The eagerness Abbott felt rang out crystal clear. 

The other man laughed gaily. "He took you, did he?" 
"Took me? He?" 
"Liked his looks, did you?" 
"What do you mean, he?" 
"Set your mouth to watering, did he?" 
"He?" 
"Made you hard and lathered and all fevered up?" 
"What do you mean, he?" Abbott demanded in a hard, demanding voice. 
"You ain't' the first and I doubt you'll be the last." The man laughed in pure delight. "Gad, but he's good! Almost got me the first time." 
"What do you mean, he?" Abbott's hand gripped the other man's collar and tightened in warning. 
"That's our captain's cabin boy, Jason Doyle." 
"Jason... Why the little devil!" Abbott grinned. "He got me all right, pure and proper, the little blackguard." Abbott walked to the edge of the pier, stood staring at the now empty deck. "Aye, he got me and I'll get him."